


Let Sleeping Crocodiles Lie

by ThisisVenereVeritas



Category: One Piece
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:03:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4935292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisisVenereVeritas/pseuds/ThisisVenereVeritas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or not. Rocinante's never been good at learning a lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Sleeping Crocodiles Lie

Crocodile was already half asleep when Rocinante got into bed, though it wasn’t enough to stop him from making a move.

He hardly saw Crocodile these days. He was always off doing something in the middle of the gigantic desert country. Rocinante tried to remain supportive. Alabasta was going through hard times: it was in the middle of a long drought, the princess had disappeared from the social scene, and there was the usual talk of revolts and rebellions. The country needed their hero to keep things in balance. Rocinante understood and was in full support of the justice that Crocodile brought to the table.

But he was lonely. Law called once in awhile, and Robin would sometimes engage in a conversation, but neediness was getting the better of him. He slipped into bed with far less grace than he should. The bed shook and Crocodile jerked under the covers, flashing Rocinante a testing look. It was the first of what would amount of several warnings, Rocinante just knew it. He smiled and waited for Crocodile to get cozy before hesitantly reaching out. He carefully wrapped an arm around the man, letting one situate on the chest, the other wander farther below.

Rocinante’s hand began to apply a gentle grip around Crocodile’s penis. Crocodile twitched, but didn’t push away or fight back.

“What are you up to?” he heard Crocodile growl.

“Nothing,” he lied, lips pressing against the smaller man’s nape. Crocodile’s hair was soft and wet. He was moist and smelled fresh from a recent shower. “Just touching.”

“I had a _very_ long day,” Crocodile announced. It was a not-so-subtle warning. Rocinante chose not to take it. His other hand slid down Crocodile’s chest, enjoying the quiver from tensed muscles that his touch left behind. He heard a low sigh, causing his body to warm and let out a mild ache. “And here _you_ are–”

“I’m just touching,” Rocinante replied. “I like the way it feels…and it’s not like I’m getting you hard.”

“ _You’re_ getting hard.”

So he was. Rocinante could feel the heat pooling down below, bringing it to life. His underwear was turning snug on him. “You don’t have to do anything about it if you don’t want to.”

Crocodile huffed. “I won’t.”

Rocinante expected as much. “Alright then,” he said, a smile forming on his face when his hand tickled Crocodile’s stomach, watching the man’s shoulders rise from the unwelcomed favor. His other hand continued to play with the penis, thumb gently going in circles under the head, feeling foreskin shift and tighten under the constant treatment. Crocodile jerked, looked over and threw a harsh stare, but still said nothing. He was essentially a ragdoll, and Rocinante viewed the dismissive reaction to his molestation as an invite to continue.

He began stroking, grip firm enough to pull the foreskin over the head, allowing him to rub and massage it. This time Crocodile reacted. He jerked forward, just barely stopping his hips from engaging in mild shivers or thrusts. Crocodile failed to hold in a gasp, and the sound was enough for Rocinante to go fully erect. He bit the tip of his tongue, fighting a chuckle while he continued to work Crocodile’s cock, heart racing when he felt it warm and stiffen in his hand. He waited until Crocodile jerked again before pulling his hand away, fingers now laced in a thin, but welcoming layer of precum.

“God damn it,” Crocodile growled, turning himself over to face Rocinante.

“You’re really hard,” he chuckled, staring nervously at the threatening look cast at him. He rubbed his fingers together, feeling the moisture between them dwindle. He did not forget how hot he made Crocodile.

Crocodile frowned, baring teeth at him. “You insolent little–”

“What’s stopping you from turning into sand and just leaving me to wallow by myself?” Rocinante asked. Crocodile sneered, but said nothing in return. Was he taken aback by his remark, or in shock from being interrupted mid sentence? Rocinante was too afraid to wait and figure out, so he grabbed Crocodile’s left wrist. “Let me finish what I started,” he asked.

“Excuse me?” Crocodile sounded so offended that Rocinante was sure he’d end up with sand in his eyes.  The wrist slipped away, and Rocinante felt scar tissue run though his palm. No sand though. “I must have misheard you,” he added before distancing himself from Rocinante.

“You’re always ordering me around, telling me to take some fucking initiative,” Rocinante persisted, nudging closer to the older man. He was a little worried he turned Crocodile off from him. It was a risky move to begin with, disturbing Crocodile from his rest in order to get some attention, and now they were close to arguing. “Well, here I am.”

“And _what_ a purpose you’ve given yourself,” Crocodile laughed.

The sound of his cruel laughter taunting him the darkness brought Rocinante down. Oh, he was used to Crocodile throwing the occasional insult in his direction, but it hurt more after trying to initiate a bit of harmless affectionate touching, all in the hopes of having some of it returned.  He sank into the sheets, face burning hot with embarrassment while he listened to Crocodile’s slow laugh taper down. Rocinante wanted to hide and create a field drowning out every miniscule sound there was: Crocodile shifting in the bed, the movement and growing space between them, the sounds of slow breathing in contrast with something hurt and hectic.

Crocodile stared at him, and even in the darkness Rocinante could see that he was judging him. The eyelids lowered, the cruel smirk faded, and all that was left was for Crocodile to fall back into place and fall asleep, leaving Rocinante to anguish for having tried.

He heard a groan. “ _Fine_ ,” Crocodile said, bringing his left arm up to cover his eyes. “I’ll humor you. I’ll let you have your way, this one time.”

Had he heard that right? Rocinante shot up from the bed, looking down at an exhausted, irritated looking Crocodile. “What?” he asked, still in disbelief.

Crocodile lifted his arm up. “You heard me. I’m taking you up on your offer.” He brought his arm down, stump pointed towards the sheets, at the pitched tent created by Rocinante’s manhandling. “Finish the job.”

Rocinante had to clench his jaw in order to keep it from dropping.

“And if you know what’s good for you,” Crocodile continued. “Which, at this point, I’m beginning to seriously doubt, you won’t half-ass it and disappoint me.”

“When do I ever disappoint you about these things?” he asked, lifting up the sheets. He could see his erection poking through his underwear. He didn’t show it, but he was hoping he might coax Crocodile into providing just a little affection.

Crocodile didn’t answer. Rocinante understood: he wanted to get this done and over with so he could go back to sleep. He moved the sheets aside, catching sight of Crocodile’s naked body. There wasn’t any time for admiring. He focused on Crocodile’s lower abdomen, on the intended goal, and calmed himself down a bit before attempting to crawl over.

He made it about two steps before his knees slipped on the sheets, causing him to tumble and fall.

“How long will this take?” Crocodile asked aloud. “Get your damn feet out of my way.”

“I meant to do that,” Rocinante replied back. He recovered, pulling himself further down, enough so that Crocodile wouldn’t complain about his legs or feet distracting him. He remained on his side, moving closer until he was left with the decision to get on top of Crocodile or have him turn on his side. He didn’t want to risk the later.

He slipped on top of Crocodile’s lower abdomen and was welcomed with an exaggerated sigh, but Crocodile obliged and moved his legs, spreading and resting them on the bed, giving Rocinante the access he needed to finish him off. He took the erection in his hand, mouth already open and breathing over the tip. He heard another sigh from Crocodile, this one more agitated as he waited for Rocinante to suck him off.

His lips wrapped around the head. Rocinante blinked, eyelids already feeling heavier and a warm tingle erupting throughout his body the moment Crocodile stiffened up in his mouth. He took his time building pressure around the head, his mouth beginning to water at the taste and feel of it rubbing against the roof of his mouth. He brought both hands around the base, his thumbs rubbing the shaft as he began to suck. He heard Crocodile breathing. It sounded heavy. He wanted to touch himself. Rocinante fought against it. He bobbed his head, going about halfway before rising back up to the head, letting pressure build as he squeezed the base, his other hand cupping Crocodile’s balls.

“Hey.” It was yet another warning from Crocodile.

Rocinante didn’t stop, but managed to peer up at him, furrowing his brows and handing Crocodile his silent reply. Crocodile sank back into place, and Rocinante waited for him to relax before sliding his head down, taking the rest of the man’s cock to the base. He pressed his balls upwards; applied gentle pressure, checking for any sounds of displeasure before rubbing them against his palm.

With a hand free, Rocinante readjusted himself, his hand reaching down to coax and soothe his aching erection. He kept his attention on the sucking, maintaining a fixed rhythm, unafraid to let out a moan and look up and see Crocodile reacting to the vibrations set around him. His hand carefully freed his erection from his underwear, exposing it to the warming air. His fingers shook as he touched the tip of it, pained with oversensitivity. He grazed the shaft, wincing and shivering and struggling between breaths because of the rush it gave him. He wrapped his hand tightly around the base and squeezed it. He jerked and moaned and felt Crocodile twitch underneath him. He heard him make more wonderful, low sounds, something between a growl and whimper, and touched himself more.

“You’re getting sloppy,” Crocodile remarked.

His voice was labored, but Rocinante believed it. It was hard concentrating on pleasing both himself and Crocodile. There was saliva running down his chin and all over Crocodile’s cock. He was forgetting to keep in tune with touching him and blowing him. He knew the rhythm was off. Rocinante looked and saw Crocodile staring back at him. His face was red and moist, but Rocinante could tell he was annoyed.

Crocodile, despite receiving all this attention was still finding the time to judge. Rocinante should have been upset, but he couldn’t bring himself to. His penis ached for more attention. His body was begging for release. He ceased the blowjob and brought a hand over his mouth to wipe away excess spit.

Crocodile made a face. “Feeling overwhelmed?”

“A little,” he admitted. He caught Crocodile staring at his erection. He saw a pleased, arrogant grin appear on his face before going back to being annoyed.

“Always a disappointment,” he muttered. “Couldn’t even bring yourself to finish before you got tired.”

“I just need a little break,” Rocinante replied.

Crocodile pulled himself up. “I’m not going to wait all night for you to catch up.”

Rocinante frowned. “You know,” he began, “this would be a lot easier if you–”

“I already said I wasn’t going to do anything,” Crocodile interrupted. He sat up, spreading his legs and kicking Rocinante off of him. “I intend to keep it that way.”

Rocinante remained on the bed. He stared at Crocodile’s erection, the blemishes developed over his shoulder and face, and the sweat mixing with his saliva, running down the shaft and balls. His mouth went dry. His cock burned. Would Crocodile deny him? Sure, but he doubted Crocodile was capable of ignoring his own arousal.

“Then don’t,” Rocinante answered back, sounding icier than he would have preferred. “Just lie where you are then.”

“Hmm?” Crocodile’s eyes were lidded. His voice was going soft. He was getting tired again.

Why did the thought of fucking Crocodile come up? What was it about the dry, sarcastic and cruel man that left Rocinante thirsting for more? Crocodile didn’t respect him. He hardly ever showed interest in him. Rocinante knew this, he was fully aware of it, but still he wanted to fuck Crocodile. He wanted to make him moan and whine and touch him back because he made him feel so good.

It was a long shot. No, it was worse than that. He already made the mistake of waking up Crocodile, another when he failed to live up to his impossible expectations, and now he was about to do it again with yet another stupid request.

Rocinante crawled up between Crocodile’s legs. “We could have sex,” he said, smiling up at Crocodile. “You wouldn’t have to worry about pleasing me directly.” His hands slid up Crocodile’s lower abdomen, petting dark hairs and sensitive skin.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re still pretty hard,” Rocinante pointed out. It was an innocent enough statement, but the additional pursing of the lips made Crocodile frown at him. “And I know you’d rather not touch yourself.” His other hand fondled Crocodile’s testes, paying close attention to the center.

“Or I could just _make_ you finish,” he suggested.

“You could,” Rocinante said. “But you said it yourself, you had a long day.”  He watched Crocodile leer at him. He smiled. “And I’ve burned myself twice, slipped over a carpet, and bumped my head. What’s a few more bruises?”

Crocodile sighed through his nose. He hung his head and was about to cover his eyes with his hand, but stopped. He laughed. “You damaged piece of…” He brought his hand down. Rocinante expected to have it come flying at him. Crocodile rested it on the bed. “Fine,” he said. “Fine. Go ahead. Fuck me.” He sank back into the bed, arm up and gesturing Rocinante to come closer. “I just wanted to sleep. I wanted a break from having to deal with a country full of inept fools,but I guess that’ll have to wait till you’ve had your fill.”

Rocinante ceased playing with Crocodile. “Are you trying to upset me?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” he sarcastically replied. “It never works with you.”

“Crocodile,” Rocinante began, but Crocodile brought a finger to his lips, shutting him off from saying anything more.

“You’re well on your way to disappointing a third time, Rocinante,” he said, shaking his head at the younger man. “Will you go back on your word? Will you lie to me _again_?”

Rocinante bit the inside of his cheek. He couldn’t tell if the man wanted sex, wanted to get hate-fucked, was trying to mess with him, or had completely given up. Rocinante held on to Crocodile’s waist, feeling their combined heat.

“I won’t disappoint you,” he muttered through Crocodile’s finger.

“See to it that you don’t.” Crocodile lifted his hand away from Rocinante. “I won’t try to make an excuse the next time I choose to spend time away from Rainbase.”

Rocinante ignored the latter remark. He moved off from Crocodile, and then he walked over to the bathroom. He wasn’t afraid of Crocodile’s words. He knew the man was trying to play on his weaknesses. He wanted him to get angry. Rocinante had grown wise though.

Rocinante found the lube and a condom and hurried back to the bed, somehow managing not to trip on his way back. He landed roughly on the bed, earning another audible groan from Crocodile. Rocinante took Crocodile’s leg, rough enough to not cause any suspicion, but still with enough caution in case Crocodile didn’t have the patience. Rocinante got between his legs, and he struggled putting on the condom, and Crocodile made a few additional comments, but Rocinante refused to let any of it affect him, plus he managed to get the damn thing on.

He opened the bottle of lube and squeezed out a decent amount of lubricant into his palm before rubbing his hands together, coating them in a fine layer. ”Relax,” he said, smiling down at Crocodile, as though the older hadn’t harbored an aggravated glare the entire time.

“You’re making me nervous,” was Crocodile’s reply. “I swear, if I smell something burning…”

Rocinante hushed him with the insertion of two fingers. Maybe he went in a little too fast, because Crocodile _did_ wince, and instead of instantly chastising, he remained rather silent, only making slight facial gestures whenever Rocinante rubbed a certain way. He kept his free hand on Crocodile’s genitals, letting the palm of his hand rub and stimulate the area just enough to keep Crocodile from making any additional comments. Crocodile relaxed around him. His eyes lidded. Rocinante saw his bottom lip get pulled in when he inserted a third finger. Crocodile didn’t cling to the sheets, or say anything that might have suggested some discomfort. His back arched. He was redder around the shoulders and face, but he never once reached out for more attention. He never gave Rocinante any suggestions, compliments, or criticism. The only thing he had to go on were the quivering muscles that provided the infrequent, sharp contraction. Rocinante massaged the inner walls, watching Crocodile give in to subtle bodily reactions: a heavy sigh, a twitch of the leg, his cock, feeling the muscles around his fingers relax and invite him to keep going, or over stimulate and squeeze tight.

Rocinante’s patience was nearing its end. He watched Crocodile struggle to remain passive, every break in his character turning Rocinante on more. He needed to have Crocodile break and crumble and return his fair share of attention.

Most of all, he wanted Crocodile.

He removed his fingers and took the bottle, squeezed out some more of its contents before spreading it over his penis. Even with it covered Rocinante felt the heat of his hand and lube running down his shaft, sending needy pangs up to his stomach.

“You ready?” he asked.

Crocodile snorted, but lifted his hand up and flicked a few fingers to let Rocinante know that he was, or didn’t care. Rocinante preferred the former, but he made sure to be _extra slow_ positioning himself, and a little more grabby than usual, just in case. Once Crocodile’s legs were lifted and spread he pushed himself in. He went in slow, breathing turn labored once he felt the heat and pressure engulf him. Rocinante listened to Crocodile sigh underneath him and had to stop himself from immediately thrusting.

He looked down at the man and snickered. “You’re dripping all over.”

Crocodile glared back. “Shut up and finish the job.” His face was red, and his body was shiny and wet with sweat and heat and goosebumps. The hair on his arms was rising up, and he was finally grabbing some of the discarded sheets, and his toes were curling, and his hair was a mess, and he looked like a mess, and _Crocodile was a mess_.

Rocinante was ecstatic. “As you wish,” he complied. Crocodile’s upper lip twitched and he looked away, clearly offended by his enthusiasm. His pout was quickly replaced with a wince when Rocinante lowered, grabbing and lacing his arms around Crocodile, pushing further in.

He knew Crocodile would complain or taunt him for starting off too slow or gentle. Crocodile was already adjusting around him, taking whatever pressure and fullness he could achieve on his own. He went ahead and made the most of their position and started at a decent pace. He didn’t go too fast: as much as he loved how tight Crocodile was, he didn’t want to finish too early. And he knew that, underneath the panting and curled in lips, Crocodile was still judging him. He concentrated less on the sounds of skin hitting skin, Crocodile’s deep voice breaking into whimpers when he pushed back in, the shaking arms that were so close to wrapping around him, and that delectable stiff cock rubbing against his abdomen, and focused on getting Crocodile to finish.

Even with the condom on it was hard to stay alert. Crocodile was moving coincide with his rhythm, savoring each time they smacked together. The left arm was hooked over his neck, and the right hand was still clinging to the bed sheets, knuckles turned white whenever Rocinante rubbed the right spot. Sweat was collecting across his flushed body, and some of it was starting to roll down, and Crocodile’s wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. Nothing was keeping it shut. Rocinante watched the teeth clench together, and then part, and he saw Crocodile’s tongue, and Rocinante just had to go in a little harder when he saw it, smiling when Crocodile stuck it out, his head lowering to hide the view from him.

Rocinante fucked him harder. Crocodile grabbed him with his arms and held him down, bodies pressed together. Rocinante had told himself he’d focus on Crocodile only. He failed. He dipped his head, taking in Crocodile’s lovely moans, their collective heat and moisture, and sank in it. He felt Crocodile quivering around him, coming close to orgasm, and fucked him even harder. He was faster and less forgiving. He focused on the stump rubbing his back, the fingernails starting to dig into his back, Crocodile’s legs rubbing and squeezing his sides. Crocodile shivered underneath him and kicked up one of his legs before he stiffened up. He was surprisingly quiet when he came. Rocinante saw it. He felt intense contractions, warm semen hitting and dribbling between them, and he saw the muscles spasm, the open mouth that briefly formed into a relieved grin. Rocinante held on tight to Crocodile, provided a few more thrusts, listening to him utter weak sighs. His rhythm turned frantic, and an intense pressure was released from his cock. A wonderful feeling overtook him, and Rocinante continued to hold on to Crocodile, muttering his name over and over, grateful that Crocodile was still latched around, still twitching and receiving some pleasure from his presence.

For about a minute there was nothing but the sounds of heavy breathing and bed sheets being moved and further wrinkled.  Rocinante was a sap and wanted the silence to last longer, but the feeling was waning on Crocodile, and he was the first to let go.

“You can get off now,” he said. Rocinante raised himself up. Crocodile stared at him, looking ready to push him off. “Clean yourself up before you settle.”

“Ok.” Rocinante was glad he wasn’t pushed off. He pulled out of Crocodile and removed the condom before leaving the bed.

“Get me a towel,” Crocodile ordered. Rocinante nodded his head, but stumbled over his step just as he passed the door. “Try not to break anything on your way back!”

Rocinante cleaned himself up as quickly as he could and hurried back to the bed, moist towel in hand. Crocodile snatched it and wiped his face of excess sweat. He removed the cooling semen from his stomach, and was about to sit upright when Rocinante took the towel from him and tossed it across the room. Before Crocodile could start swearing Rocinante fell on top of him, held him down with one hand while reaching for the covers with the other.

“What are you doing?” Crocodile hissed. Rocinante pulled the covers over and relinquished his hold on Crocodile. He moved closer to Crocodile’s resting body, feeling it tense under his touch before Crocodile exhaled and relaxed. “I guess this means you’ve _finally_ had your fill?”

“I don’t want you to get out of bed,” Rocinante replied. He wanted to ask Crocodile if he had done a good enough job. He wanted praise and Crocodile suggesting they try this again. But he didn’t want to risk the night being ruined with harsh criticism, so he instead he moved up behind him, breathing lightly, his lips closing in on Crocodile’s shoulder.

Crocodile twitched when he felt the first kiss. “What now?”

Rocinante chuckled lightly. “I’m just having fun,” he answered. He kissed the hot, tanned skin again, this time towards the neck, and he let his lips linger a bit before parting them and opening his mouth. He tasted salt and skin and pulled it into his mouth, sucking lightly.

“Why?” Crocodile groaned into the sheets. Rocinante waited to see if Crocodile would attempt to push him away, or throw another mean look in his direction. He felt Crocodile shiver out a sigh. Rocinante rubbed his lips against the moist neck, listening to Crocodile’s breathing begin to slow.  “If you leave a mark…”

“You always wear so many layers,” Rocinante said into the crook of his neck.  

“I just wanted to sleep,” Crocodile murmured tiredly.

Rocinante wanted to chuckle. Crocodile sounded genuinely upset over the matter. He flared his nose, relishing the taste in the air. “You have all day tomorrow to do that,” he said before going back to kissing Crocodile’s neck.

Crocodile wasn’t fighting back. He kissed his the back of his neck a few more times, letting the rest between each one grow. Crocodile’s breathing slowed, and Rocinante wanted to imagine the older man had simply given up and was finally opening to his advances. Maybe Crocodile would return the favor this time and kiss him back. He’d run his hand through curly blond hair, comment on how thick it was and how much he loved to grab and pull it.  And who said the night had to be over? They could wait a bit, and if Crocodile desired, could have his turn and do as he pleased with him. They could play all night long, and Rocinante would enjoy having Crocodile by his side during the day, spread lazily over the bed.

It was an exquisite thought, and were it not for Crocodile’s light snoring Rocinante would have considered coaxing him a fourth time.


End file.
